


A Meeting Of Minds

by LadyLestrade



Series: My favourite fictional character and me [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Psychological Warfare, Seven Deadly Sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLestrade/pseuds/LadyLestrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time there was a little girl called Lida. Like lots of little girls, Lida had an imaginary friend. But Lida's imaginary friend was unlike any other...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Meeting Of Minds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_L](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/gifts).



> My friend, Miss_L, challenged me to write a fic about her and Loki in the second person, present tense(!) This is the result. It is also my first posting on A03 so play nice and please bear with any mistakes. Enjoy!

A MEETING OF MINDS  
He circles you slowly, his green eyes gleaming in the low light. You can hear, practically smell, the friction of the leather sliding across his skin.  
And he knows it.  
“Well, well, well…” he hisses, his soft, cultured tones contrasting sharply with the malevolence of his stare. His lithe body stalks on long legs around you but, like a true predator, his eyes seem to stay perfectly still.  
He towers over you, armed and very definitely dangerous, but you are determined to face him down. Somehow, even though you have to physically tilt your head up, you still manage to look down upon him.  
He is impressed.  
“What do we have here?” he sneers.  
Your stare intensifies and he finds himself having to plumb the dark depths of your eyes for a response. You make him wait for a reply. Eventually you speak in a calm, measured tone; no fear, no uncertainty, nothing. “And where is here?”  
His face lights up. “Don’t you know?”  
“I wouldn’t ask if I did.” The same even timbre to your voice.  
He stops pacing, planting huge booted feet upon the mist-shrouded ground, and leans in towards you. You feel the hot breath in your ear, smell the musk of his skin so close to yours. “Guess.”  
“I don’t like games.”  
“Oohh…” His cool eyes narrow further. “I think we both know that that’s not quite true!”  
“What?”  
“It’s a clue, Lida. Think about it.”  
You hold the contact as long as you need to then slowly begin to look around you. A dark place; damp and full of shadows. Cool and scented with age like yellowed books. A kaleidoscope of music but faint and disjointed as if being played far away. And an almost acidic taste on the air. The atmosphere seems foreign…and yet strangely familiar.  
Very little else – except him.  
“Got it yet?” Sharp, staccato sounds suddenly jarring on your senses.  
You keep cool. “Why don’t you tell me?”  
A small smirk crosses his sharp features. “Why should I?”  
You ignore him until he feels compelled to speak again. Whoever, whatever, he is, he likes the sound of his own voice. And you intend to use that to your full advantage.  
“Look around you. Dark. Cold. Empty. Except for me, of course.” His green eyes flash.  
You still will not dignify him with a response though his proximity seems to chill your very soul.  
“Oh.” He looks suddenly disappointed. “Still, I shouldn’t expect too much really, should I?” He gestures around the place with a wide sweep of his arm. “It’s you!” he sneers. “Your psyche. The weird landscape of your mad little mind!”  
You gaze around, struggling to supress a shiver. Now that’s he’s said it…  
He studies you greedily, watching for any sign of…anything.  
Once again, he is disappointed. The environment might be hostile but it is home. You have the advantage of being on your own turf here. “What am I doing here?” you wonder aloud but before he has the chance to take advantage of the question, you add, “more to the point, what are you doing here?”  
“Me?” He indicates himself in a mock self-deprecating gesture. “I live here.”  
“This is my mind,” you remind him.  
“And you invited me in. So…” Another malicious grin. “Here I am.” He begins circling you again, a freezing draft in his wake. “You know who I am, don’t you?”  
You roll your eyes. “Of course I know who you are. The question is, why you are.”  
He frowns.  
“Here with me, now,” you finish in an exaggerated tone as if addressing a dull-witted child.  
He is, of course, anything but…  
His shrug is nonchalant. “Home truths,” he replies, “I’m here to tell you a few.”  
“Oh yeah,” you scoff, “and you’re really big on the truth, aren’t you, Loki!”  
His face darkens slightly. “People in glass houses, my little Lida…”  
“Do your worst,” you say with a lot more confidence than you feel, “I can handle it…and you.”  
“Really?” He draws in closer again, noting with evident satisfaction, the slight stiffening through your body. “Well, that would be the first of your…sins.”  
The icy hiss in the word chills you further but you hold your ground. Once again, you counter him with silence. He draws back, standing tall and lifting his chin. In studded green and black leather, you have to admit, if only to yourself, that he is magnificent.  
“Pride,” he pronounces, “look at you. So full of yourself!”  
In that moment, you realize that you are, in fact, mirroring his stance; standing square with your hands behind you back.  
“But proud of what, I wonder?” he goes on, “upon what, exactly, could you possibly base your self-esteem?”  
It is a convincing first blow. It hits home hard – and he knows it. Because to answer that one, you would have to admit that you were not, in fact, proud of yourself at all. On the contrary, despite the assurances of friends and though appearances would suggest otherwise, you - like so many others - have struggled with your self-esteem.  
He senses the drawing of first blood. How could he not? After all, he does, indeed, live inside your head. And it was at your invitation too. Be careful what you wish for…  
You could hope for no more than a little damage limitation here. He has made his point. But at least it is over now. You fix your best disinterested face firmly to the front of your head. “Whatever,” you sniff, batting him away as if he was no more than a slightly irritating insect, “if you say so.”  
“I do.”  
“Well, you’ve had your fun. Off you go now.”  
You note his look of surprise with some satisfaction. But it is to be short-lived.  
He cocks his head. “Excuse me?”  
“Oh, Loki,” you coo at him, “there really is no excuse for you!”  
His handsome features contort into an ugly scowl. “How dare you! You insolent, insignificant little mortal!”  
“Really? You-”  
“I’ve not even started yet,” he spits.  
“I think-”  
“I don’t care what you ‘think’ – if indeed you are even capable of such a thing. I have come to speak; to tell you a few home truths, you miserable lowlife. And so you will listen.”  
Before you can interrupt him again, he pounces, pinning you against the boundary of your mind, his face just inches from yours. “You will do anything and everything that I desire. Understand?”  
What should be a threat sends strange thrills through your body and where his hands hold your arms, despite his Jotun ancestry, the contact begins to burn. Against your better judgement, you stay silent and wait to hear him out.  
For a moment, he says nothing, breathing deeply through flared nostrils and glaring into your eyes. You shift slightly. You are becoming rather uncomfortable – though perhaps not in the way that he imagines!  
He leans forward so that his cheek is against yours, and whispers into your ear. “Don’t think that I don’t know…” And with that, he pushes you away from him. You stumble but do not fall – although your body feels the sudden loss of contact keenly.  
“One thing at a time,” he growls, circling away. The air feels cold in his wake. You settle yourself on a damp, mossy rock (god knows what part of your psyche that represents?) and prepare yourself for the oncoming storm.  
He returns and regards you with distain. “Comfortable?”  
You nod, though in reality, you are far from it. But you are damned if he’s going to know it.  
He snorts. “Typical, you vacuous sluggard!”  
“Pardon?!?”  
“Oh, you heard me. The second of your sins is most definitely sloth. In fact, with the amount of effort you put, or rather don’t put, into anything, you might as well be one!”  
“A sloth?”  
“Yeah,” he sneered, “dirty, lazy, disgusting animal. Did you know that they are so lazy, they sometimes can’t even be bothered to feed themselves and then starve to death? So stupid too.” His lip curls. “That could well be you – although, of course, you’d never actually starve, would you?” His tone is stinging. “But we’ll come back to that one.”  
You consider defending yourself but suddenly have a better idea.  
He waits.  
“Oh,” you say, “are you expecting a reply to that?”  
He nods.  
“Sorry,” you laugh, “but I can’t be bothered!”  
He rolls his eyes. “But you can be bothered to eat though, can’t you?” he tries again.  
“And you don’t?” you counter casually.  
“Yes, I do. But I only eat what I need.” He runs his hands down the front of his sleek, leather-clad body. You pretend not to notice – which isn’t easy. “I eat, not as a glutton like you do, making my body all soft and useless,” he sneers at you. “I eat like a warrior; keeping myself fit and strong, providing the energy I need to achieve my purposes.”  
“Like destroying worlds?”  
His brow creases. “Well…yes. Jealous?”  
“I’d rather create worlds,” you tell him. “In fact, contrary to your accusations, I often do.”  
“Huh. Just fiction.”  
You smirk. “And exactly what are you then, Loki?”  
The muscles in his jaw tighten and twitch. “And this,” he sweeps his hand around the weird, barren wasteland, “is the best that you can do?” His voice is full of ridicule but you can hear the underlying note of defence.  
You know that you have wounded him. You expected to feel the triumph but not the tinge of regret. Damn this man…even if he is just a figment of your imagination. You are obviously cleverer than you or he thought. But also much more attached to each other too.  
You settle for a simple shrug which only seems to infuriate him further. Despite his arctic inheritance, beads of sweat have begun to form upon his furrowed brow. You are turning out to be not quite the easy conquest that he had anticipated.  
But he is far from finished yet. Time to bring out the big guns, as it were…  
“But food is not the only thing you crave, is it?” His voice has dropped at least an octave. You shiver in response. As you watch, his hands slide down from his flat stomach to his altogether fuller groin. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply as he cups himself, touching and teasing. You are mesmerised by this delicious display. He can no longer see you but he can feel your eyes upon him as he squeezes and strokes.  
Taking his sweet time, he circles around and crouches behind you on the damp rock, his body hard against your behind. Despite yourself, you gasp.  
“Oohh, you like that, don’t you Lida?” he purrs.  
But you can no longer reply.  
“You hunger for the pleasures of the flesh.” With that last word, he thrusts his hips forward. A small sigh escapes from your parted lips as he brings his huge hands round to cradle your breasts. His lips appear close to your ear. Having lost sight of him, your other senses are now highlighted; you can hear him, smell him, feel him – hell, you can almost taste him. The tip of his tongue teases your ear. “Mmm. You know what you are?” he whispers, slow and low.  
A tiny shake of your head.  
Suddenly you find yourself launched forward, crashing onto the rough ground on your hands and knees.  
“A wanton woman,” he crows, “a filthy, lustful harlot!”  
You drop your head to hide the sudden pain and shame that flares red through your cheeks. You had certainly fallen for that one – in every sense of the word.  
His laugh is loud and harsh. “That’s where you belong. On your knees – you trollop!”  
You rise slowly, feeling decidedly bruised and battered now. But not yet beaten. Not by a long way. “At least I only covert my own kind,” you say softly.  
He stops strutting. “Eh?”  
“Not horses or snakes. Or even inanimate objects. A rock? Really, Loki?” You haul yourself to your feet and look his straight in the eyes again. “Your exploits are as weird as they are well-known” Was that the very hint of a blush that tinged his proud face? “And you have the nerve to call me lustful?”  
He turns away momentarily. You settle back on the stone and try not to stare at his beautiful leather-clad arse!  
“Huh,” he says eventually, almost too quietly to be heard. “Voracious, I may be – as indeed, a man should be, let alone a god.” He is finding his stride again now. “You...are just generally greedy.”  
“Am I now?” you reply in a tone almost as gently sly.  
“For food, for sex, but also for attention, for recognition, for approval and praise. From everybody, all the time. You’re pathetic!”  
You just grin. “And yet here you are, feeding upon the very desires that you claim are my weaknesses? What, exactly, does that say about you, Loki?” He shies back slightly but you are after him now. “Rather, I think it is you who craves attention, who has an insatiable desire for power and praise. You who insists that everybody kneel and pay homage to your great and glorious self!”  
His temper flares. “Silence, you measly mortal! You are just jealous of all that I am – and all that you are not. Completely envious of those who possess all these things but too lazy and inadequate to achieve them yourself – and too proud to admit it!”  
“ENOUGH!” Your voice rings out, sharp with authority.  
He physically steps back, his face a sudden study in shock.  
“Shut up!” you roar at him. “Just shut the fuck up – right now!”  
“I-I think-” he begins to babble.  
“And I don’t care what you think, you deluded, out-dated, fictional psychopath!”  
He attempts a smirk but suddenly you are up there, shouting in his face. “This is my life, my mind –”  
“You-”  
“And your ‘invitation’, if that’s what it ever really was, is officially revoked! Cos you know what, you pathetic parasite?” You jab him hard in the chest, causing him to take another step in retreat. “I don’t need your shit, Loki!”  
He recovers himself slightly. “Is it shit though?” he sneers, although his silky voice has lost a great deal of its former bravado, “as I have already shown, there are seven deadly sins – and you are obvious guilty of all of them!”  
You step back and look his up at down at your leisure. Now it is your turn to smirk. “You know what, Loki? You’re right.”  
His eyes cloud with confusion. He wasn’t expecting that.  
“I am guilty of all of them” you continue coolly, “including…ANGER!”  
The final shouted word actually causes his jaw to drop slightly.  
“So” you conclude triumphantly, “now I’m using it to tell you… to fuck off!”  
“But-”  
“Right now. Go on!”  
“You-you can’t do that!”  
“Watch me! You’re nothing, Laufeyson. Nothing more than a mere figment of my imagination. I dreamed you up, so now I’m undreaming you. Now…GO!”  
“What? No!” he protests but his physical form is already beginning to fade. As he disappears, so do the dark surroundings.  
You blink as the gloom is transformed into the familiar surroundings of your own room. The hard stone softens into a mattress beneath you and the damp mist folds itself into a warm blanket around your body. You stretch yourself out, slowly returning to consciousness.  
Then suddenly you look straight at me, shattering the fourth wall with a single stare. “Really?” Your voice is pure incredulity.  
“What?” I reply, unsure of how the writer should react to this sudden turn of events.  
“Call yourself a writer?” you sneer.  
“Well-”  
“And I woke up and it was all a dream. Really, Anni?”  
“No, not really,” comes the familiar silky voice and a pair of bright green eyes suddenly appear from the shadows. “Oh, Lida,” he coos, “you really didn’t think that you could escape from me that easily, did you?”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The psychopath inside my head](https://archiveofourown.org/works/690034) by [Miss_L](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L)




End file.
